


Off to a Good Start

by chinesebakery



Series: 16 Weeks [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fluff, Hook-Up, No chill Simmons, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz knew he wasn't in his own bed before he even opened his eyes. The sheets smelled of a flowery fabric softener and felt silkier than anything he'd ever owned. Somewhere to his right, an alarm was blasting an obnoxiously peppy tune. Definitely not his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off to a Good Start

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to jsimmonss for beta-reading.

Fitz knew he wasn't in his own bed before he even opened his eyes. The sheets smelled of a flowery fabric softener and felt silkier than anything he'd ever owned. Somewhere to his right, an alarm was blasting an obnoxiously peppy tune. _Definitely not his._

As his brain began to awake, so did a slight but insistant headache –damn his system for punishing him every time he had even a drop of alcohol. Fighting an uphill battle against his sleepy mind, he tried to reconstruct the events from the previous night. The details were sketchy be he had the basics covered. A bar. A girl. An instant connection. Banter –lots of it. And then…

There was some stirring on the other side of the bed, and the mattress shifted slightly before a blissful silence settled again, followed by the click of a lamp.

"What time is it?" Fitz groaned, shutting his eyes tighter.

"5:45," the woman announced in a distinctly English accent. She stretched, her bare arm brushing against his chest.

"What? _Why_?" He asked in genuine confusion. "Who does that to themselves?"

The sound of her laughter finished rousing his memory. She'd laughed a lot the night before, as she teased him mercilessly.

He opened his eyes and turned on his side to meet a pair her sparkling amber eyes and a bright, genuine smile.

"Hi," he said, and found he couldn't help but return her grin.

"Hi," the woman _–Jemma–_ replied, a corner of her mouth arching higher.

"Slept well?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in a manner that seemed both provoking and endearing.

"Like a baby." A sated and slightly tipsy baby, anyway.

"Good. I'll be right back," she announced, getting to her feet. Without bothering to pick up her discarded clothes from the night before –weren't women supposed to wrap a sheet around themselves in such situations, at the very least? Had Holywood lied to him all these years?– she tiptoed toward the bathroom while Fitz very much enjoyed the view.

Much to his disappointment, she was wearing a robe when she reappeared, something purple and pretty that was certainly not quite as enjoyable as her naked form, but still showed a large strip of pale, freckled skin, and a decent amount of her shapely legs.

_Stop ogling her, you pervert._

"My eyes are up here," she said, as if reading his thoughts, and had the gall to look thoroughly amused when he felt his neck and cheeks warming.

"Right," he cleared his throat. "It's my turn," he said awkwardly, gesturing to the doorway.

Ignoring her pointed stare, he patted around the floor until he located his underwear. He slipped them on self-consciously, before he all but ran to the bathroom as gracelessly as could be, hoping to forgo the scrutiny he'd just submitted her to.

That was the reason he avoided relationships, he reminded himself. The entire thing was nerve-wracking.

When he joined her back into the room, she was sitting on the bed cross-legged, looking expectantly in his direction.

"Look, Fitz,” she started the moment he came into view. "For some reason, I feel the need to let you know that I don't normally do _–_ that. But, also, that I don't regret it."

"Me too. Huh, me neither," he replied with a tiny shrug.

They exchanged a warm look, mirroring smiles etching over their faces, until Jemma broke the electric silence.

"What time do you have to be on your way?" she asked thoughtfully, leaning back on her forearms.

Fitz blinked, trying to come up with a rough estimate _–_ embarrassingly enough, he couldn't remember _exactly_ where they were. His attention had been otherwise engaged while she was giving directions to the cab driver.

"Err, around 7:30, I guess, if I'm gonna stop home for a change of clothes?"

She nodded, a gleam in her eye. "And I have about an hour to spare. Well, usually, it would be time for my morning run, but _–_ I suppose I could always skip it."

Fitz gulped and wordlessly petitioned all the Gods humanity had worshipped over the millennium for that one woman to be on the same wavelength as him. _Let me have that. Just this once._ "So– any plans?"

She grinned mischievously as her hand started toying with the knot of her robe's belt. "How about a shower?"

***

"I'm starving," he announced some time later, delighting in the feel of her fingers combing through his curly hair. "Would you like me to fix you something for breakfast?"

"Oh, I would certainly _like_ it," she assured him, "but if you manage to find anything edible in my kitchen, I would be much impressed."

"Don't underestimate me." Though all his limbs felt pleasantly loose, a surge of energy ran through him at the promise of food and he peeled himself away from her, pressing a kiss against her temple before they separated entirely.

He was back not five minutes later with a dejected expression on his face.

"Sriracha and beer? Really?"

She winced in theatrical self-deprecation. "There might be some Pop-Tarts in the pantry."

"Eight months past the expiration date." He shook his head desolately. "I threw them out."

"Hey!" she mock-whined. "I'll have you know I was sentimentally attached to those. They've been around _forever_."

Fitz was about to reply when his stomach growled almost comically. Jemma laughed and came to pat his belly before she placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on." She passed him his pants from the night before. "Let's go and find you something to eat before you pass out."

***

"Do you really have to go?" Damn, he sounded so needy. But it was hardly his fault if she was so bloody perfect. Who could seriously blame him for attempting to overstay his welcome in such company?

"Actually, yes, I do," she sighed. "Big day, today."

"Yeah, of course." He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he worked up the courage to bluntly ask her out. He tried to remember Hunter's advice. _Quick. Like a bandaid._ Or was that his recommendation for _ending_ a relationship? _Oh, bloody hell._

"I want to see you again," he said, fast –so fast she seemed to have trouble understanding him at first. But then her face softened into a pleased expression.

"Good," she said simply, as her smile grew until it all but blinded him.

His heart hammering in his chest, he pressed his advantage. "Let me take you to dinner. Somewhere nice."

"Okay." She craned her neck to nip at his lips across the table.

"Tomorrow?"

"What's wrong with tonight?" she frowned, and it was his turn to laugh blithely at his good fortune.

***

Fitz hiked across campus with a spring in his step. What a wonderful morning it was.

This day was looking very promising indeed. It wasn't even _all_ about Jemma. He was about to start a new class he was really exciting about –although it was technically distant from his designated field of expertise, it held many immediate, practical applications in relation to his current research and Fitz was very much looking forward to that.

Yeah, what a glorious day it was. He was even a few minutes early for class, despite his rather eventful morning.

He settled in his seat in the front row and turned on his laptop, his mind still wandering to memories of Jemma –was she technically his girlfriend now? And did she like Italian food? He should have asked her, he realized with a pang. But it would have destroyed the element of surprise, and surprise was a good thing, wasn't it?

He made a mental note to text Bobbi after class.

Then, something amazing and only vaguely plausible happened. Jemma entered the room and started walking in his direction. His eyes instantly lit up when he saw her –it had been less than half an hour since they said goodbye, and yet it felt as if he'd missed her. Did that technically make him a creep?

He waved in her direction, waiting for her to notice him. But to his dismay, her smile visibly faltered the very moment she took him in. In fact, she looked quite alarmed.

It felt like a slap.

What was happening? Why did she look like a deer caught in headlights? She _did_ have doe eyes, but it was hardly the point. She _liked_ him. He hadn't dreamt that, he was positive. Just before, their goodbye kiss had dangerously veered toward full-on snogging session territory. The grumpy barista had made a point to let them them know –and every other patron– that there would be no sex in his coffee shop.

And now…

Jemma walked past him and dropped her bag on the teacher's desk before she squared her shoulders and stood up a little straighter.

"Good morning everyone. I'm Dr. Jemma Simmons, stepping in for Dr. Hartley." She paused to give Fitz a quick, apologetic glance. "I'll be your biochemistry Professor this semester."

_Oh. Shit._

***

"Mr. Fitz," Jemma called after him as the other students made their way to the door, her soft voice drowning into the sound of creaking chairs and heavy footsteps. A tense smile was carved across her face. "A word?"

Fitz nodded gloomily. "It's Dr. Fitz, actually," he informed her as he made his way to her desk. It didn't change anything, of course, but he still felt the need to even things out between them as much as he could.

"Oh. Well." They held each other's gaze silently for a few moments, the corners of his mouth turning up in a joyless grin. Jemma didn't look very happy, herself. Fitz had the sudden urge to smoothe the worry lines creasing her forehead with his thumb. Instead, he shoved his fists in his pockets.

"So," he trailed in defeat. "This is awkward."

Jemma sighed in contrite agreement "I'm afraid so. There goes our date."

"I was really looking forward to that," he bit out, kicking away at nothing to ease his disappointment. As temper outlets went, it was tragically ineffective.

Jemma nodded and averted her eyes, turning back to gather her notes.

It felt very much like a dismissal. A rueful one, perhaps, but a dismissal nonetheless. Fitz wanted to stomp and curse the bloody cosmos for conspiring to keep them apart.

He tried imagining it –seeing her around campus, sitting a few feet away for hours on end every week, without ever being on the receiving end of her teasing smile again, without tasting those tantalizingly full lips again, until she had all but forgotten about him. Until he was just a face among dozen of other faces.

His fists bunched in his pockets.

"Wait," he said before he could think anything through, and she looked up in surprise. His voice had sounded more forceful than he'd meant. "Okay, so, we can't go out on a date."

"That would be wildly inappropriate," she regretfully confirmed.

"But you won't _always_ be my professor. It's only for this semester, right? So maybe you and I could still– see each other sometime? Have a cup of tea, maybe? Just to talk, nothing... untoward."

She huffed a breath and frowned, considering it –his bright, perfect girl. "I suppose it's acceptable to meet with a student for… mentoring and such."

"Right," he nodded emphatically. "All work and _no_ play. None at all."

"But how do you suppose we might refrain from... untoward things?" she asked, her voice edging to despair once more.

"Mmh." He closed his eyes, trying to ignore what came first and foremost in his mind _–_ he wanted to kiss her again. _Desperately._ "Uncompromising will?"

She snorted, the minx. "If it comes to that, I hope yours is less compromising than mine."

"Jemma," he whined, his head falling back. "Not helping."

"Sorry." She bit her lips. "I promise to do my very best to ignore you masculine wiles. Well, for a semester, anyway."

"Should we start over then?" He offered his hand and she grabbed it immediately.

"Jemma Simmons. Biochemistry Professor."

"Leopold Fitz. Mechanical engineering student."

" _Leopold?_ " She made a noise that sounded dangerously like a snicker.

"I'll have you know I'm already rethinking this entire arrangement," he warned, and her laughter echoed in the now empty classroom.

Later that day, Fitz sat down at his computer to set up a countdown –a proper, cross-platform countdown app that synced on every device he owned, so he could know precisely at any given time just how much longer Jemma Simmons, Biochemistry Professor, was off limits to him. Little did he know that Jemma had done the exact same thing a few hours earlier.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked for the following prompt: "I had a one night stand the night before I started a college class and whoops I accidentally banged the professor" 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr –I'm chinese-bakery over there.


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